


Moments to Remember

by chasing_pages



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Danger, Drabbles, Emotional Illya, F/M, Fluff, He has feelings but he hates to show them, Napoleon is amazing, Romance, Spies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_pages/pseuds/chasing_pages
Summary: A CIA agent, a Russian member of the KGB, and a German car mechanic. They're three of the most unlikely people to ever be seen together, much less work together. Yet somehow, they're a family. This dives into all of their emotional moments as they work to put aside their differences in order to save the world.*Cross-posted onto my Wattpad (@accio-parchment).





	1. Summer Rain

Gaby does not like the rain. In fact, she despises it. In East Berlin, rain meant water seeping from her thin roof and pooling in the windowsills. Rain brings bad things for her. It rained when her father disappeared. It rained when her mother died. And it rained the day that Alexander Vinciguerra tried to kill her. 

Even now, as an agent stationed in Britain, all it does is rain. The windows are fogged, the air is insufferably humid, and the sky is painted a dull shade of gray. And Gaby hates it. She'd much rather spend her days reading a book in the sun. Or working on her car in the driveway. Anything other than sit inside like a caged bird. 

She paces around her small apartment. Napoleon is out on a side mission, and she doesn't have a clue as to where Illya could be. 

Illya. She's not entirely sure how to feel about him. There were so many moments during their first mission together that had her heart freezing and sparks flying in the air between then, but then nothing more. They seemed to be stuck in an awkward middle ground; unwilling to be strictly friends, but afraid to risk being anything more. And Gaby is frustrated. 

She used to think of Illya as her enemy. In fact, he had seemed to embody the very fascist values that she had grown to loathe. But Illya was special. He was a troubled and complicated soul whose pain mirrored her own. He allowed her to see parts of him that were otherwise hidden under an uncaring facade; hidden smiles at her terrible jokes, whispered criticisms of Napoleon's bland American cooking, and private dances to her favorite songs in the recesses of their hotel rooms. They were all part of what made her love him, but she was afraid to ask him if he felt the same. 

A knock on the door made her pause. The apartment was silent, save for the pounding of rain on the window panes. Another knock. 

With quiet steps, she made her way into the living room and grabbed her gun off of the table before heading towards the door. However, a quick look through the peephole revealed the tall, Russian giant that had just been the object of her thoughts. She let him in. 

"Fancy meeting you here."

"I was out. Figured you'd need company. Am I welcomed?"

She laughed. "Of course you are. I'm bored out of my mind, and in definite need of some company."

Illya stepped in, and she laughed privately as he was forced to duck his head in the doorway. A few long strides took him straight to the living room, where he deposited a large box on the coffee table before sitting directly behind it on the couch. 

"What do you have there?" She asked. "Wait: if it's something of Napoleon's, I don't want to know. "

Illya chuckled lightly. "No, it is not Cowboy's; I do not want anything that is his. This," he gestured to the box. "is for you. Something to keep us occupied during rain."

And that was how Gaby learned to play chess. It was tedious and oftentimes frustrating, but she enjoyed the distraction from her broody, rainy-day thoughts. And she definitely enjoyed the company. Chess was something that Illya was comfortable with, and it made him happy to share the game with her (after all, "Cowboy cannot appreciate the strategy behind game."). 

The next time it rained, Illya came back, and this time she made him listen to all of her favorite records. It became their thing, and Gaby began to associate a rainy day with Illya. So, when the radio announced a solid week of summer storms, Gaby shot her partner a bright smile across the chess board.


	2. Sweet Slumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Napoleon and Illya are forced to hunt down their small German friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the VLD story, "The Pidge Hunt" by Titans_R_Us. Hope you enjoy! Also, if you have any story or headcanon suggestions, feel free to leave a comment, and I'll try to write as many as I can if I find the time.

Illya and Napoleon were on the hunt. They had been pacing around Gaby's apartment for what felt like hours, in search of their small Chop Shop Girl. Neither of them was willing to voice their nervousness, but Illya could tell that Napoleon was as worried as he was. After all, even Cowboy's offhanded comments lacked their usual strength or charm, as if the effort required to conjure them couldn't be mustered up. And Illya felt the same way. He knew he had gone more silent than normal, but even as the fact registered in his brain, he didn't think it was important to waste any energy making small talk with his American partner. After all, they had been working together for just over a month now, but their thoughts and actions seemed to be in perfect tandem; Napoleon knew what Illya was thinking, and Illya could tell exactly how Napoleon was going to act. So, the tedious search dragged on. 

Neither individual had much cause to believe that Gaby had been kidnapped, but only because this situation had already happened a couple of times before. In fact, each member of the team had their quirks. Napoleon eats an unhealthy amount of cake when he's angry. Illya can stare at the wall for hours at a time when he's lost in thought or some long-repressed memory. And Gaby will fall asleep almost anywhere once she's worked herself to exhaustion. Hence their current predicament. 

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

When they were back in Britain a couple of weeks ago, Illya had gone to visit her on a rainy day. The lights were on in the apartment, but the door was locked and no one had responded to his increasingly frantic knocks. So, he decided to act like any other person would, and a short minute later, the lock was picked, and he was standing inside her apartment. Yet still no response. And then, in a short moment of heart-wrenching panic (that he'd never admit to) Illya panicked and reached for the phone. 

"Solo speaking. Who might this be?"

"Cowboy. I'm at Gaby's home. Cannot find her." He said. And Napoleon was there in five minutes. 

Together, they searched the cramped apartment. The cupboards in the kitchen were empty. There was nothing under the coffee table. A cursory check of Gaby's bedroom and closet - which Illya insisted on doing alone - also led to nothing...until Cowboy shouted from the next room. 

"Hey Peril, I found your girlfriend."

Illya rushed out, and his racing mind didn't even bother to correct Cowboy for his assumption. There, under an old maple desk, was Gaby. She was curled up within the wooden cubby, with a forgotten book resting in her lap. To his right, Illya heard Cowboy chuckling softly at the ridiculousness of the sight, but Illya ignored him, and reached out to take Gaby to bed. 

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Since then, it wasn't uncommon for them to find Gaby asleep on top of the coffee table or underneath a car, still wearing her greasy coveralls. But Illya and Cowboy had gotten better at finding her - now that they knew some of her favorite spots. 

However, now they were in Portugal, in a foreign hotel room with different spots for the small German to hide in. So Illya sighed, and continued his search. It could be a long one, but he didn't really mind anymore, so long as he could make sure she was safe (And of course, Napoleon knew this, and Illya was forced to put up with all of his American comments while they scoured the rooms).


	3. Snow on Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for this chapter came from @Trabi here on AO3. I'm sorry if this chapter isn't quite like your suggestion, but I just kinda took the idea and went with it. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

They're sitting on a park bench in the middle of Russia, watching the steady stream of colorful hats and scarves flow by. He tries not to steal a glance at his partner, but God, she's beautiful, and he feels his self control wavering. A small part of him stirs up sour memories of his training with the KGB, chastising him for his weakness in the face of the small German girl sitting next to him. But Illya dismisses the thoughts with a slight shake of his head.

He knows that his relationship with Gaby is somewhat...unconventional. After all, how many other couples can say that they were married as spies before their first real date, or that they've endured torture, kidnappings, gun fights, and nighttime escapades together. The turmoil that they've endured together would be plenty enough to tear apart any strong couple, but for some reason, it's only brought them closer together, and with each harrowing escape their bond only grows stronger. Cowboy has called it one of the "great mysteries of life," but Illya knows better. Every dangerous moment makes him realize just how fragile life is. And he's realized just how important it is to hang on to the people important to him before they're inevitably taken away.

He's reminded of his mission. It doesn't have to do with guns, gangs, or anything that he's used to. No, this mission is personal, and Illya feels more unprepared for this than for any assignment that Waverly has given him.

A light snow begins to fall, and Illya steels his resolve as best as he can. If he is going to go through with this, he will do it without making Gaby sick from the cold. Which means that it is time for him to act. Almost as if she senses his inner struggle, Gaby reaches over to place her small hand inside of his. The tan fingers are enveloped within his pale grasp, and he's reminded yet again of how different they are from each other.

"Come, Chop Shop Girl. I have something to show you."

He stands up from the rickety bench, hand still with hers, before looking down and giving her a small smile. She smiles brilliantly and rises to join him, before letting him lead her down the concrete path. It's somewhat unnerving to him that she's so quiet. _Can she sense his hesitation that much? Is it something else he's doing? Is something wrong?_ He chuckles to himself at the last thought. _No, if  something were wrong, she wouldn't hesitate to bring it up with him._

His long strides bring them to the edge of the park, where a small opening in the trees gives way to a crumbling graveyard. He knows that she's probably bursting with questions, but she continues to observe her new surroundings with a silent stare.

Illya doesn't even need to read the names on the stones to find who he's looking for. Instead, he treads quietly on the gravel towards the very back of the graveyard, where a beautiful granite headstone lays at the base of an oak tree, still legible despite the years of erosion that it's endured. Suppressed emotions swell over him, and he closes his eyes against the onslaught of memories. Gaby squeezes his hand, and he's immeasurably grateful for her support. She is the first person, besides himself, to visit this grave since the stone was laid in the ground. Another supporting squeeze of his hand before she lets go, and he listens to her walk forward, before her crunching footsteps stop and it's silent, save for the swirling wind.

"Vladimir and Lenora Kuryakin." A pause and then a suppressed sniffle. "I'm so sorry, Illya."

His depressing memories halt and he opens his eyes to look at her. "No need to be sorry, Gaby. Is not your fault."

Then he's standing next to her, staring at the large headstone. It memorializes his parents, but only one body lies beneath; his father's body in Siberia was never returned home.

Once again the emotions flow through him. Anger at the pain his parents both endured. Sadness for the hardships that his mother faced in order to put food on the table for him. Guilt that he didn't do more to help them.

And again he is reminded of his KGB teachings. Emotions are for the weak. And the weak are always taken out by the strong. So he schools his features into what he hopes is a look of impassiveness, pushing all of the pain deep inside where-

His thoughts are cut off by a crushing hug. A warm body is pressed into his chest, and Gaby stretches her short arms to wrap around his build. It's an action that speaks louder than any words, and it transcends all of their language and cultural barriers. It says, _I'm here for you, I support you. And it's okay to let it all out because I'll never judge you for having feelings._

And the dam breaks. He doesn't scream or pound the ground or cry loudly into her shoulder, but his shaky breaths and quiet sniffling mark the greatest show of emotion that he's had since he was a child. All of the pent up pain and frustration seeps out and he actually lets it, because he knows that he doesn't need to be embarrassed about it. Gaby burrows her face deeper into his chest and rubs his back, sharing his pain despite her having no reason to.

They stand there in the graveyard for what feels like forever. Frozen tears stream down his face, but he smiles despite them because he hasn't felt this loved in such a long time. Looking back on this later, he'll realize that it takes so much more strength to express your inner pain than it does to suppress it. But for now, he is comforted by the gently falling snow and the woman standing beside him.


End file.
